i am languid & slow
i think it should be hot—i’m not
complaining though, the cigarette
in my hand spills ashes everywhere
and the sun is muted yellow casting
a long stripe of shadow and light.
maybe it will rain, or maybe
the city will cool off in the night, maybe
that is all we need, and
maybe that will have been enough.
Using only words for things you currently see, write a poem about beautyit’s 12 in the afternoon and
i think it should be hot—i’m not
complaining though, the cigarette
in my hand spills ashes everywhere
and the sun is muted yellow casting
a long stripe of shadow and light.
maybe it will rain, or maybe
the city will cool off in the night, maybe
that is all we need, and
maybe that will have been enough.
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